


Those Emerald Eyes

by TwoForATable (AliSimAlice)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dudley Dursley Has a Magical Child, F/M, Family, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 11:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14019282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliSimAlice/pseuds/TwoForATable
Summary: Dudley Dursley and his wife Abigail have a daughter named Daisy. When they die in a car accident their little girl goes on to live with his widowed mother, Petunia. As the months pass by Petunia begins to witness in Daisy the same peculiar outbursts of magic that she saw thirty years before in her nephew Harry, all the while she battles depression and the many regrets that haunt her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This story isn't 100% compliant with the canon (epilogue). Harry married Ginny not long after the war was over and they have sons James and Albus, but divorced when they were little, which means Lily Luna doesn't exist here. In this story James is 8 years old and Albus is 5 years old, while Teddy Lupin is a 12 year old Gryffindor in his 2nd year at Hogwarts. Teddy still lives with his grandmother but at heart is Harry's eldest son and Harry is Teddy's closest father figure. I also thought it pertinent for readers to know that though it is not the main focus of this story, Harry and Hermione's friendship will at some point evolve into something more.

It was a cool and windy autumn evening as a one Petunia Dursley stepped out of her London flat clad in a dark wool coat and clutching her purse's strap. She had forgotten to buy eggs, matches and filet mignon for her precious Dudley and his family who were to visit tonight for their usual Thursday family dinners. As she walked swiftly, eyes gazing sharply forward like those of a hawk she swerved from the other passersby on her way to the grocery shop. Suddenly though the wind felt stronger and even more cold, seemingly slapping her face. She felt a strong tug to her heart strings and for an entire second (far too long) she felt as though there was no oxigen in this world. She stopped, grasping for air. It didn't take long for her vision to become blurry and for her to suddenly not see anything at all. In the background she could hear gasps, cars honking and desperate cries and murmurs.

 

…

 

When she opened her eyes she was in the emergency room. The strong smell of bleach and disenfectant insulting her senses. She franctically called for a nurse or doctor, someone, anyone. She felt something was entirely wrong.

 

…

 

“Please telephone my Dudders...” She would murmur in between tears and sobs. She hadn't called him Dudders since he left for university, or was it on the day she finally said her goodbyes to Vernon. Petunia couldn't for the life of her recall. Either way she needed him here, to talk sense into the doctors that she hadn't had a nervous breakdown, that they were about to sit down for dinner, that he was still _here_. And Abigail his wife and her beloved little Daisy too. The nurse came, eyes with dark circles below them, pale blond hair. Everything about her screamed tired and miserable, she huffed and gave Petunia a trio of pills to swallow, a plastic cup of distasteful water. Petunia spit it all out. She squirmed and screamed and called out for her Dudley. He never came.

 

…

 

Late in the morning, she awoke from fitful sleep and she was sure more tired than she had been before it. A different nurse came in, plump and rosy cheeked, a friendly smile crowned by light freckles.

 

“Good morning, Mrs. Dursley. Sleep well?” She asked, checking the clipboard.

 

“ _No!_ No I did not, thank _you_ very much.” Petunia was dismissive and irritated and wanted desperately to go home.

  
“Mrs. Dursley, a one Mr. Temple is here and wishes to see you. Is he a relative?” Petunia's eyes widened. Why on earth would John be here? And then she remembered yesterday's horrible sensation. She'd made a fool of herself in front of everyone in the middle of the street. In public. Petunia was mortified... and above that, not enjoying the strange chain of events not one bit.

 

“Let him in.” She finally responded dryly, as another nurse popped in carrying the breakfast tray (Petunia's scrambled eggs were a lot better, she could tell by the smell. And the biscuits and oatmeal too...).

 

Mr. John Temple followed the nurse inside the room, eyes glued to the floor which was very, very unlike him. Mr. John Temple was the most annoyingly happy person Petunia had ever the displeasure of knowing. Perhaps, and she would never, ever admit this, because she was the most annoyingly _un_ happy person she had ever known. He stopped at the side of her bed and finally raised his brown eyes to look at her, matted brown hair and blue eyes as sharp as ever and of course _that_ frown. But despite her demeanor, Petunia wasn't at all unattractive and her now seven years of being a widow had done wonders to her complexion as she spent quite a lot of time outside, her skin having a slightly golden glow and she wore red lipstick most days and even jean trousers that fit her nice. Not bad for fifty-nine.

 

“Dearest Petunia...” he started, suddenly very much fascinated by the hem of his sweater. He was always so full of words to say and Shakespeare and William Blake quotes and films that he'd seen and untamed horses he'd ridden on. Awfully too little words.

 

“Please, just tell me already.” She finally whispered, impatient and resigned because she feared for the worst and the worst was what she was expecting.

 

“Our Abigail and our Dudley, have regretfully departed us.” He said all at once, words jumbling together, choking out a sob and then opening a dam of tears, all falling from his eyes. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, more for his reassurance than hers. She let him even though it made her uncomfortable, no one had held her hand, no one since Vernon. But now... She blinked. She blinked several times before she felt an imaginary dagger to her chest and her heart beat madly. Petunia too choked, but headstrong as she was held her own, refused to make a fool of herself and cry before John and everyone else.

 

“What do you mean by they departed us?” She managed to say, voice trembling, hands trembling, heart pounding in her chest.

 

“ _They_ are no longer, Petunia. Dead is what they now are.” He told her, whiping away the tears, breathing coming back to normal. John was only sadness however, and that was so, so unlike him.

 

“D- _dead_?” He nodded vigorously, more tears threatening to fall. He squeezed her hand once more and was able to control himself. “And Daisy?” She asked of her granddaughter, just two years old.

 

“Doing fine. At my house, with a nanny, the poor little thing.”

 

…

 

The day after the funeral, Daisy moved into Petunia's flat. The grieving grandmother set up her cot, little books and little toys in the small crafting room, her clothing all in the large wooden dresser. Daisy was a sweet little thing, barely cried, always smiling, ate very well, slept through the night... bless her soul. Petunia loved her more than anything, but still, each time she gazed upon her only grandchild, a piece of her heart would break. Big emerald-colored eyes would gaze back at her and all Petunia could see were the beautiful eyes of her late sister, because even in that the late Lily had beaten her to.

 

As Petunia Dursley went about her daily chores around her tiny home, caring for Daisy as best as she could and never forgetting to water her potted plants by the kitchen window, one thing reverberated in her mind: once again an emerald eyed baby, an orphan, a little someone for her to rear and nurture. More than that even, what haunted Petunia the most, more so even than the loss of her precious son was the fact that this was it, that this was her last chance, her redemption, the only thing that could perhaps ease the guilt in her heart, towards her sister Lily and towards Harry, Lily's son. Always those emerald eyes to haunt her.

 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I just wanted to take some time to thank all of you who have read and sent kudos. It means a lot to me that you are giving this story a chance, especially since it's the first time in a very long time that I have submitted any new chapter or fanfiction story.
> 
> About this chapter: After reading the first submitted chapter of this story again (for the hundredth time) I have come to the conclusion that this following chapter is the true 1st chapter of this story and the other was just a prologue. You won't see much action in this chapter because it's mostly meant to situate you all with where Harry and Petunia are in their lives and what has gone on in their lives since the end of the war and also in the little while since Dudley and his wife Abigail's deaths. I hope you like it and will continue to review! You don't know how much it motivates me to continue writing!
> 
> Anyway, read on and please let me know your impressions so far!

 

A month had passed since his cousin Dudley's funeral and each time Harry would try to bring himself to write a letter or a card of condolences to his grieving aunt, something would interrupt him, the words were never right (too cold and automatic or exaggeratedly sentimental). The easiest thing would be to abandon the silly idea altogether and move on with his life. However, there were nights where he would lay in bed unable to sleep because he knew deep in his heart that he should do or say something, after all, aunt Petunia was still... his aunt. Harry's best friend Hermione would probably point out that it was his “hero complex” causing him to feel this way, but Harry knew deep down that it was more complicated than that.

 

Harry's relationship with aunt Petunia was distant at best. During his entire childhood with the Dursleys Harry he'd only been treated with contempt, violence and abuse. Aunt Petunia who had been his mother's sister, the one person who should've cared for and given her orphaned nephew love was the one to least do so. And Harry had carried that rejection in his heart all these years. Aunt Petunia who was of his own blood hadn't loved him, had hated him. Harry, despite all the years that had passed would still sometimes go back to being that little boy who felt he was worth nothing, not even worthy of love. Harry had only realized the deep effect of his relationship with his aunt in his character and persona when a couple of years back he began consulting with a muggle psychologist. According to him, the trauma of the Dursley's rejection and treatment of Harry were what triggered his feelings of insecurity and his hopelessly low self-esteem.

 

 

He was thirty-one years old now, an age everyone considered to be the prime of their years. School life, danger and adventure were long past him and so was the dreadful war that had killed so many of his friends, mentors and colleagues. Between then and now so much had happened in his life: marriage, fatherhood, divorce, him going in and out of jobs and professions because nothing was quite right, luckily he had his family's fortune to help them get by and it's not like he had any desire or asperation to live a lavish lifestyle. The one thing that satisfied him most was being at home with his boys, James, Albus and Teddy, surrounded by their laughter, cries and sibling banter. Harry tried to be for the three of them a good and loving father, the sort of parental figure that he hadn't had growing up. Everything that the Dursleys, especially his aunt, could have been.

 

 

A stronger wind interrupted his thoughts and it carried a perfume all too familiar. And then he noticed her high heeled steps coming closer, from the direction of the garden gate. He smiled as he noticed her trying to be as quiet as she could in order to startle him.

 

 

“ _BOO!_ ” She shouted, only to be slightly disappointed when it hadn't resulted in her desired reaction.

 

 

“Nice try, 'Mione. I have three boys.” He smiled again, tenderly and watched as she rolled her eyes and sat on the chair next to him, slipping her fancy shoes off and leaning back like an elegant cat, running her hands through the honey colored mane of curls. She looked at him from the corner of her chocolate colored eyes and chuckled, cheeks turning pink as she realized he'd been watching her. “Someone looks awfully cheery today...”

 

 

“Actually, I am, very much. First day of my much needed holiday leave. Two full weeks Harry! I can finally have a social life again, catch up on my reading, spend a weekend with mum and dad, visit with you and the boys...” Sometimes Hermione worked so much and such long hours that they would spend weeks without seeing one another and he'd forget how talkative she could be and how her presence always made him feel relaxed and happy. The boys also adored her, Albus especially, who was already a little bookworm with curious eyes and because Hermione always brought a new film or two for them to watch together on the large sofa, drinking coca-cola and eating buckets and buckets of popcorn.

 

 

It didn't take long for the two younger boys to hear Hermione's voice all the way from inside and still clad in their pajamas, they ran across the yard with huge smiles and calling her name. She jumped off her seat and open her arms to engulf them in her famous bear hugs and kiss the top of each head.

 

 

“Aunt 'Mione are you staying for breakfast?” James asked and didn't even wait for her response as he turned towards his father: “Dad, you could make us some pancakes!”

 

 

“With syrup!” Albus added, arms still wrapped around his godmother's waist.

 

 

“Hmm, I gather that's not an invitation, 'Mione...” Harry said letting out a laugh.

 

 

“All right, all right. If you both insist!” She picked up Albus who wrapped his arms around her neck, little hands tangling in her curls while James took her hand and all but dragged her inside.

 

…

 

After everyone had eaten and filled themselves with Harry's delicious pancakes, the boys went off to play with their lego blocks in the living room while Hermione sat across from Harry with those inquisitive eyes staring at him, hands clasped around the red mug that was only hers to use with a third filling of coffee.

 

 

“Are you going to tell me or not, Harry?” She finally said. Patience had never been Hermione Granger's greatest virtue and she wasn't one to beat behind the bushes either. She was sometimes so direct it actually hurt. Harry blamed it on her being a lawyer, but she'd always been this way, bold and direct, and in the world they lived in it was actually quite admirable and refreshing... Just not so much in moments like these.

 

 

“Umm, well, I just don't really know where to start...” he looked up to find her eyes glued to his and sighed. “A while ago I received the news of my cousin Dudley's death. His and his wife's actually, a terrible car accident while they were driving home from work.”

 

 

“Merlin, Harry, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“Mainly because I've been trying to figure out what to make of it. You know that Dudley and I were never exactly close, but it still saddens me, you know? He'd changed a lot from the bully he was when we were kids. He was happily married and you remember, Ginny and I attended his wedding...” Hermione nodded in understanding. “I just cannot get the fact that we both could've been like brothers, you know, out of my head, us having grown up in the same house. And we weren't...”

 

 

“And that also got you thinking about your aunt.” He nodded as he fumbled with his hands, eyes staring at the table top as though it were oh-so interesting. “Have you contacted her?” Harry shook his head and sighed heavily. There was a long moment of silence and then Hermione noticed his breathing hitch and his voice tremble as he tried to mumble something out. She could tell that he was trying hard not to cry. Hermione rose from her chair, rounded the table and engulfed him in a hug. “Oh, Harry...” She whispered, as she held him as he let himself cry for the first time since he had received the news. And after she had felt him begin to recompose himself she asked, gently, “And do you want to contact her?”

 

 

“I'm not sure...” He whispered, seconds later as the overwhelming sensations subsided and the tears stopped falling. “I'm not sure it's right.”

 

 

“In that case I think you should wait, give both of you some time to grieve.” He nodded. “Maybe you could order her some flowers though?” Harry shrugged and removed his glasses, whiping the wetness of tears that had slid onto the lenses with his cotton shirt. He nodded at Hermione's suggestion, maybe he would.

 

 

…

 

 

Petunia Dursley had her granddaughter strapped in her pram happily babbling and waving to random passersby on their way to nursery. Petunia figured that since Abigail and Dudley had put her in it so early on and that the child was already accustomed to it that it wouldn't hurt to try and maintain as much as she could of Daisy's daily schedules. It was bad enough that her parents had passed away and each time Daisy would cry or throw a tantrum calling for her mummy or daddy it broke Petunia's heart. Daisy was two years old and could make out words and simple phrases already, she was so clever...

 

 

Daisy reminded Petunia of her nephew Harry a lot, and she couldn't deny that they had quite a bit in common. Both were intelligent and had curious bright green eyes, both were orphaned at a regretfully young age. At age one Harry already knew to call for his 'mama' and every single time he would utter those words Petunia could only feel anger. It had been Harry's kind of people, “magical freaks”, who had separated her from her younger sister Lily and ultimately it was people like him who had taken her life. Petunia also hated herself for having been so proud and for not having been warmer to her sister, apologized, made peace with her before her death. Back then, when Harry was still a boy and living with her at Privet drive, Petunia hadn't suspected any of this and blamed only the wizarding kind and therefor baby Harry for everything bad that had happened to Lily and to her relationship with her. But these past years living on her own, with Vernon's death and Dudley only visiting and calling once in a while, it had given her plenty of time to think and reassess things about herself and her past. And she hated the person she had been to Harry because she knew that in hers and Vernon's place Lily and James Potter wouldn't have done to Dudley what she and Vernon had all those years done to their son.

 

 

The streets were busy as always but Petunia highly appreciated the change of scenery from her little whinging, Surrey suburban one. Being alone these years meant she had far too much time on her plate and had to fill it somehow. So she began to take all sorts of lessons, swimming, pottery, sewing, Italian, cross-stitching, the likes, but the one thing that appealed to her most and that became her main outlet the past three or four years had been painting which to hers and everyone's amazement, she was actually quite good at it. Abigail Dursley had worked with journalism and marketing and had known her way very well around computers, internet and technology, so she had in no time created an instagram for Petunia's paintings, which Petunia bregrudgingly learned how to use. All of this had allowed for her to showcase her work and sell quite a bit, enough to pay half the rent of her flat and buy her canvases, paints and brushes. So, in so little time Petunia Dursley, a once perfectly normal wife, mother and homemaker had become an artist and suddenly she wasn't all that normal anymore. And it was perfectly okay. Petunia wondered what Vernon would think of her now...

 

 

She arrived in front of Daisy's nursery where one of the teachers was at the door greeting parents and the tiny little students. Petunia stopped pram, unbuckled her granddaughter, chubby cheeks rose-colored from the pleasantly cool spring wind. Petunia helped the little one off her comfortable seat and straightened the plaid dress she had sewn for her herself.

 

 

“Off you go Daisy-girl. Granny will fetch you in just a little while.” Petunia grabbed the girl's ladybug backpack and helped her put it on. “Have a nice day little one, I'll miss you this much!” she said with a smile as she opened her arms wide only for her granddaughter to hug her tight.

 

 

“Bye-bye, Granny.” She said and Petunia took the opportunity to snuggle her for a moment and take in her lavender baby scent. This little girl was all she had left of her family, of her darling son Dudley. If it weren't for her perhaps Petunia would have already taken her life, having no one or nothing else to live for.

 

 

“Bye-bye, my love.”


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

It was just about 2 o'clock in the afternoon when Petunia Dursley crossed her busy street, a bag full of groceries in one arm, while the other carried a rather large new canvas wrapped in newspaper, her small handbag strapped on her shoulder. Mr. Williams, the seasoned receptionist had hurried out of his chair to hold the door for her to enter, to which she thanked him as large drops of rain began to fall. Petunia hated getting wet in the rain as she had such a vulnerable body for catching a cold or the flu. Petunia was about to enter the elevator when Mr. Williams called for her as if just remembering something important.

"Oh, Mrs. Dursley, these arrived for you, ma'am!" He cried, producing a lovely white ceramic vase with an assortment of daisies, irises, tiny orange colored roses and the prettiest of pink lilies.

"Who from, do you know?" Mr. Williams shook his head apologetically.

"These arrived during Clayton's shift, ma'am, I wouldn't know." He then thought to check the guest log book which would usually lay abandoned in the lobby's receptionist counter. "Ah, here it is ma'am, the flowers were delivered by the Bramble & Rose floral shop at noon."

"Thank you, Mr. Williams, I'll take those." She said as she managed to tuck the canvas under her arm in order to take hold of the beautiful flower arrangement, while Mr. Williams pressed the elevator button for her. Petunia entered and let out a heavy sigh as the doors shut and it was just her and her reflection in the mirror. She counted the floors, 1, 2, 3... all the way up to the 5th and last where she lived, this being a rather old building with strong brick and stone foundations, not too high.

Petunia's apartment door was unlocked once again and she rolled her eyes and huffed as she walked inside, mentally preparing for the mess that would probably be awaiting her. And how

right she was!

Mr. John Temple was the widowed father of Abigail, Daisy's mother and on Mondays and Wednesday afternoons he and Petunia had arranged that the older man would fetch his granddaughter from school to spend the rest of the day, to allow Petunia some much needed alone time to paint. She just hated it when he would bring Daisy to her flat instead of his own.

"Hello darling Petunia, you're doing jolly good, I hope?" He asked with a large smile, his mischievous granddaughter still wearing her school clothes, hair disheveled and mouth stained with chocolate, climbing on top of him and playing with his head of ear length, elegant white hair.

"Mr. Temple, not so fine now that I see you have set camp in my home instead of taking Daisy to yours."

"Oh Petunia, please don't be cross. Young Daisy here wanted to show me her doll and see a film, I hope you don't mind. Riding the London underground all the way to Richmond would be utmost tiring for our little one as you know it takes ever so long!" He cried out dramatically. Petunia huffed in annoyance but conceded. John Temple smiled brightly with a twinkle in his eyes. "Daisy, say hello to your granny, darling!" He said, nudging the little girl who had distracted herself with the animated movie playing on the telly.

"Hello, granny!" She said with a smile, blowing her grandmother a kiss. Petunia blew a kiss back and went about putting her things away.

Petunia made sure everyone was comfortable and popped some popcorn for Daisy and her grandfather in the microwave, pouring everything into a bowl and placing it between them on the sofa. As she turned around and glanced at her table, she was reminded of the flowers she'd received and began to look for a card or note. Petunia was intrigued as to who could have sent her such a thing as it had been months since Dudley and Abigail's passing and quite honestly it wasn't like she had any friends or admirers save perhaps for John. But then again, he would've given her the flowers in person.

Petunia curiously opened the tiny white envelope and gasped as she read the brief words scribbled onto it, she'd recognize the clumsy penmanship anywhere.  _'Aunt Petunia, it's with great sadness that I received the news of Dudley and Abigail's passing, my deepest condolences. I more than anyone know just how much you loved him. Harry.'_ Petunia was no English scholar but even she could detect in her nephew's words the hint of resentment he felt towards her. She felt nauseous all of the sudden, as though she was about to be sick and angry tears began to prickle the corner of her eyes. Why had he sent her these, why couldn't he just leave Petunia alone? Couldn't Harry see that she was miserable enough? She rose from her seat in such a brisk manner that even Daisy and John turned to look, watching her curiously as she grabbed the flowers forcefully, along with the card, and dumped them in the rubbish bin. She then proceeded to pass by them as fast and as violently as a tornado, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her, falling onto her bed and almost drenching her pillowcase with the outpour of hot, angry and regretful tears. The woman's sobs were so loud that Daisy and her grandfather just looked at one another and even he, as oblivious as he usually was, knew it was best to leave.

"Shall we go out for some pastries, Daisy? Leave granny alone for a bit?" Daisy nodded and soon she was bundled up for the weather and they were out, leaving a small hurried note stuck to the refrigerator door.

* * *

Two weeks passed like they were nothing.

Petunia Evans Dursley rose from her warm, cozy bed at her alarm clock's first ring and slipped on her pink slippers as she yawned and shuffled out of her bedroom and into the one across the small narrow hall of her apartment. She gently opened the door and found her granddaughter laying in the cot with bright green eyes wide open, staring fixedly at something on the ceiling, a small smile tugging at her little lips. When Petunia looked up to see what was entertaining the little one so, she hardly believed what she saw. The stuffed bunny that Daisy always slept with was twirling high up in the air, almost touching the ceiling and the speed of it only grew as Daisy's amazement did.

Petunia felt the air escape her lungs and for a very long moment, it was as though her body had forgotten how to breathe. She felt dizzy all of a sudden and her head begin to throb in a sharp pain. Daisy seemed to notice her Granny was not at all amused and frowned, eyes wide as though she knew she had done something wrong. It seemed that whichever trick she had used to make the bunny spin above had been halted and the stuffed toy fell back on top of Daisy's cot, right on her side.

Petunia shut her eyes in quiet despair and finally regaining a bit of her bearings, rushed out of the room, slightly slamming the door behind her.

Forgotten was the fact that Daisy needed to be fed and dressed for Nursery that started in an hour. The woman paced the living room door frantically, tears pooling in her brown eyes cursing herself and the universe and why, oh why had she to once again have her life and peace disturbed by the nuisance, the anomaly, the abnormality that was magic. What was it with the genetics of her bloody family that it seemed everyone with those God-forsaken emerald green eyes had to have magic? How on earth did Petunia, the most normal of normal people have to have a  _freak_  for a grandchild?

As Petunia paced out of sheer desperation, praying to God and the universe that what she had just seen was only a figment of her imagination, Daisy came out of her bedroom still clad in her warm pink pajamas, thumb in her mouth and brown curls tousled from having been asleep. Petunia gazed upon the little girl who was now the only thing she had in life, her reason to keep on living. With tears flowing freely down her cheeks and heart pounding in her chest, skin cold from utter fear, she gazed at her granddaughter and only saw love. But could love possibly be enough?

Petunia was just too afraid. Afraid of magic, of what was different, of the dangers her granddaughter would surely encounter, the same dangers of her dead sister Lily, the dangers of her nephew Harry. And what was Petunia but a mere  _muggle_? She could never dream of being able to protect her darling girl and it broke her heart into a million pieces. Could Petunia even protect Daisy from herself? God, she has barely even begun to come to terms and forgive herself for all the terrible sins committed towards her nephew, all the abuse he had suffered from her hand and lips and from those of her deceased husband Vernon. How could she possibly trust herself to be good and right by Daisy?

A sob escaped Petunia's lips as her entire body trembled and her hands shook, her heart hurting unbearably. She fell onto the sofa and curled into a ball, more scared than she had ever remembered herself to be.

Daisy watched her grandmother, used to seeing her cry but at the same time finding the intensity of her sadness strange. She approached her Granny and pat the older woman's brown hair, running her little palm in it tenderly as her grandmother would do to her. For a moment Petunia flinched at the touch, but then she relaxed into the pure and comforting nature of it and pulled the child into her embrace, hugging her granddaughter into her chest as she cried. Daisy, bless her soul did not even try to break from her Granny's hold and instead snuggled into her, tiny, soft and chubby hands softly caressing Petunia's damp cheek, up and down, up and down.

What felt like an eternity later, Petunia had relaxed under Daisy's touch and her sobs and tears subsided, as they held each other and a million thoughts ran through her head. Daisy slowly

untangled herself from her grandmother and kissed the tip of her nose, just as Petunia would do to her and got up, standing in front of the older woman, rubbing her stomach.

"Daisy hungry." She said, emerald eyes ever so gentle and innocent. Petunia nodded silently at the girl's remark and inhaled heavily, by some sort of miracle finding the strength to get up to do what she was supposed to do, what she had been doing since the departure of Dudley and Abigail.

* * *

Another two weeks passed by, but this time as if they were two years instead. A few other times Petunia had witnessed little Daisy's magical outbursts and she wasn't an idiot and knew that as soon as she would walk in Daisy would stop, having learned from the first time that it upset her Granny deeply.

A part of Petunia was grateful for her granddaughter's wisdom and sensibility towards her but the other part knew that it was wrong to inbue in Daisy the feeling that whatever it was that she did, magic, was bad.

She put the kettle on the lit stove early that Friday morning and looked at the calendar on her kitchen wall, the one with a Monet illustration for each month of the year. She looked at the day today and realized with a heavy heart that it was April 25th and therefore the birthday of her younger sister Lily, who if she'd still been alive would be turning fifty-three years old.

After Vernon had died and she had learned that the war raging on in the magical world of her sister and nephew had been over with, Petunia had learned where exactly it was that Lily had been killed and buried, Godric's Hollow, and for the past years she had made a habit of making a small pilgrimage up there twice a year, once on Lily's birthday and the other on boxing day because Petunia had nowhere and no one better to share it with.

Petunia packed Daisy's school backpack and went into her room to wake her up, by then the kettle was whistling and she would put Daisy on the couch watching a cartoon as she finished making tea and breakfast. After eating in a hurry and feeding Daisy her warm porridge, which the child ate enthusiastically and even seconded, Petunia rushed back into the kitchen area to retrieve Daisy's school uniform from the dryer, which she managed to efficiently dress her granddaughter with as well as slip on the white stockings. Petunia called Daisy into the bathroom where the girl used the potty, washed her hands and face, brushed her little teeth with her grandmother's assistance and where Petunia managed to run a brush through her hair and braid it into two neat curls with a red bow at the end of each to match the red school jumper. Petunia went inside to slip on her tweed trousers, dark green jumper and a silk floral scarf around her neck. Petunia packed a rather large whicker bag of hers with sandwiches, tea in a thermos and a blanket, as well as her wallet and cellphone. She put on her brown leather mocasins by the door and helped Daisy into her own shoes and soon enough both were out the door, out of the building and onto the streets.

Petunia dropped Daisy off at nursery and waved to her friendly teacher waiting by the school entrance and imediately dialed Mr. Temple's number. She explained to him that she would be spending the day outside of London, visiting a relative and that she would need him to fetch Daisy from school in the early afternoon and spend the day with her until she returned. Ever so kind and gentlemanly John Temple agreed to take his granddaughter for the day in order to allow Petunia a day off and she for once was relieved that she wouldn't need to be in a hurry at Godric's Hollow. Heaven knew there was so much on her mind and chest that she simply needed to let out and Lily, her sister, was probably the only person who could possibly understand. Petunia hailed a taxi cab and was on her way to the train station and one hour from then was already seated and on the way to visit her sister's grave.

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Godric's Hollow was such a tiny village that Petunia, as always had to be let off on the train station of a slightly larger town miles away, from where she had to call on another cab in order to arrive in front of the quaint little church with the brick and stone façade, that held within it's wrought iron fences among many others the tombstones of Lily and James Potter, side by side.

Petunia pushed the gate open so that she could pass through and it creaked midst the silence that permeated the entire place. Petunia knew exactly the way to go as she passed through numerous other tombstones and granite plaques, flowering trees scattered about providing shadows and shelter against the son and also to the rather stranger but picturesque peaceful beauty of the place.

The last time Petunia had been here had been on boxing day the year before, and Petunia's heart had been as empty and hollow as the leafless trees had been that winter, cold white snow covering just about all surfaces. It had been her first Christmas season in thirty years without her son and without Abigail and Vernon as well. It had been her, alone and miserable in that apartment and Petunia had been so lonely and so utterly empty that she had even missed Vernon's unpleasant sister Marge and her large, smelly dogs. That winter Daisy had spent with her grandfather John Temple with his sister's family in Wales because Petunia hadn't even strength to get up from the bed, let alone be able to provide a nice holiday for the child.

And now she was here again, the same place, the same trees but this time they were covered in green and the white, pink and yellow blossoms of flowers, birds flying and chirping about, building nests in their branches. Color and life now surrounded Petunia but she no longer felt like her feelings were all that compatible with those of the trees.

She found her sister's tombstone and gazed upon it reading her name engraved on gray granite in elegant golden letters, "Lily Evans Potter", the day of her birth, the day of her death and beneath all of that "Brilliant woman, Brave Warrior and Beloved Wife and Mother". The tombstone had been changed following the war, this bit she knew and each time she came and though she knew each word and detail by heart she never once tired of reading them. Sadness and regret always overcame her as she thought of the beautiful and wonderful woman who had departed far too early.

Lily's death had been the first greatest pain Petunia had had to endure in her life. It had been far greater than the anger, disappointment, and humiliation that had come from the denial that she couldn't join Lily at Hogwarts because she was not magical. The day that she had learned of her beautiful, darling little sister's death a part of Petunia had died and gone along with her and had been replaced by bitterness and anger. She was Lily's older sister, she should have been with her every step of the way, she should have been Lily's protector but that world that had stolen her baby sister from her hadn't allowed her to be there, to protect her and Lily had died and Petunia had failed.

Petunia ignored the tears that pooled in her eyes and wanted desperately to fall and swallowed the cry that wanted so badly to escape her lips as the memories began to come rushing in. She began to brush away the pile of still green and also dried leaves that had littered her sister's resting place and once she was satisfied she pulled from inside her whicker basket the small bundle of flowers wrapped in newspaper that she had bought at the train station, white lilies, lavender-colored petunias, daisies and finally pink camellias, each representing a woman of their family. Lily, Petunia, their late mother Camellia and finally little Daisy. For a moment Petunia wondered if by any chance there was another flower and therefore person that was missing from the bunch, she wondered if her nephew Harry had had a floral-named daughter himself, but then again nothing guaranteed that he would follow the tradition...

Petunia inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers and placed a tender kiss on the petal of a lily before she placed it in front of the tombstone.

"There you go, Lilypad..." She said tenderly as she spread the blanket she had packed on the ground and sat there with her tea and sandwich. "Happy birthday, by the way, it's not every day that one turns fifty-three." She sat there in silence, lost in her thoughts as she ate, feeling the soft breeze against the skin of her neck and cheeks, blowing her shorter brown hair. The sun began to shine softly in the sky, but not in a way that was unbearably warm. Petunia's eyes traced the letters of her sister's name once again and she sighed. It seemed she did quite a lot of it lately.

"Lily, you know how I lost my Dudley and his wife last year, I told you on my last visit..." Petunia paused for a moment and shut her eyes as she felt the ache in her chest again, just at the simple thought. "Well, I'm sure I told you about my granddaughter Daisy, who's now living with me... She's such a beauty, Lily, I can hardly believe. She looks like our mum so, so much! She has beautiful brown hair with baby curls on the edges and she has those green eyes, Lily, just like yours and mum's and Harry's. The very eyes that I didn't get, and always wanted... So, so beautiful, but you know that." Petunia's lips trembled slightly, but she continued as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. "I know today is your birthday and everything should be about you, but oh, Lily I am so  _bloody_  afraid!" Petunia cried out and then let out a sob, which unleashed a series of them, her face hidden behind her hands. She tried to regain control of herself as she breathed in and out until moments later she was finally able to continue speaking:

"Daisy is magical, Lily, I am sure of it. Just like you and just like Harry. I wish she wasn't though and you must imagine why, I mean, I never made it a secret that I hated magic or everything to do with it. Never brought anything good into my life and look what  _it_  did to  _you_! I'm scared, Lily, of making the same mistakes with her as I made with you and your son—each moment since I realized I calculate my every move, my every thought so that I won't unleash that part of me and I-I... I'm so scared of hurting her, Lily, because she's the only thing I have last and I love her so very much!" Petunia's shoulders shook from the intensity of her cries.

Petunia sat there for hours, pouring her heart out to her sister, even though she was undeserving of her attentions and time. She drank up the last of her tea that went cold and got up, picking up and folding the blanket neatly, returning it to the whicker bag. Petunia gave the tombstone one last look before she stepped back with the whicker bag in hand.

"Goodbye, my sister—I don't deserve it but please, please help me out. I love you, Lily, always have even though for a long time I ignored you and my feelings and the pain that I felt filled me with so much hate. I love you—happy birthday, Lily." Petunia whispered before tracing the letter 'L' of her sister's engraved name with a finger and making her way between the numerous other graves, headed for the cemetary's only access.

* * *

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Harry managed to finally get his boys out of bed, dressed and breakfasted so they could visit the grandmother they would never know's grave. It had never been much of Harry's intention, but ever since he rebuilt the Potter Cottage in Godric's Hallow, he found himself visiting the resting place of his parents at the small graveyard periodically. On the anniversary of their death, he would always go there either alone or accompanied by his best friend Hermione, just as he had done on a Christmas Eve during the war many years ago. Hermione was the only person he trusted and wanted with him on such a dire and melancholic occasion. Her presence at his side and her warm and reassuring hand in his had always made him feel safer and less lonely and for that he was thankful. But birthdays, like his mother's, today, were supposed to be less gloomy occasions and moments Harry thought it more fit to bring James and Albus with him for the visit. He had the boys pick flowers from their yard to gift their Grandmother Lily with and together the three walked together the two blocks towards the village church and cemetary.

As Harry approached the creaky kissing gate his eyes landed on a figure that he hadn't seen in a long couple of years and had honestly been dreading and avoiding altogether for some time. He was certain it was her when she looked up and their eyes met and a flash of recognition shone in the brown of her eyes. She looked different. Less bony and less rigid than he remembered. Her face was fuller and her hair cut was different, shorter and a bit more modern than the 1950's homemaker look she had always appeared to have. As he examined her clothing Harry was surprised to see her actually in trousers, but he didn't for the life of him act on it.

As Petunia crossed the threshold of the gate she stopped in front of him, eyes wide in a mixture of surprise and horror and he could tell they were red and puffy from perhas crying. He saw as she tucked a hand in each of her pants pockets and managed to let out a shaky "Hello, Harry."

He smiled slightly in return.

"Hello, aunt Petunia." His sons who held a hand of his each looked at the lady who they had never before met with surprise and then looked up to examine their father's face.

Petunia wished she could disappear with every fiber of her being.

"Harry—I..." She shut her eyes for a split second and sighed, regaining her composure.

"Aunt Petunia, these are my sons, James and Albus." Harry politely introduced the boys to his aunt who looked down to finally acknowledge them. The two lads were handsome and looked a great deal like their father, especially the younger one who shared those same green eyes.

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you, boys." She said kindly, attempting a smile, and then she turned back to her nephew, with a frown now. "I received your flowers and your card last month, Harry. Thank you for the  _kind_  words." Harry noticed the lamely masked annoyance in her words.

"They were honest words aunt Petunia, is all. Are you fairing well after what happened to Dudley?" She nodded.

"Quite fine, really." She said quickly which lead Harry to believe she meant quite the opposite. Petunia's eyes examined the faces of the little boys again, admiring their handsomeness. Sadness seeped into her heart again as she realized that her sister Lily would never be able to have the privilege of meeting her grandsons like Petunia had the privilege of knowing and loving her darling Daisy.

"Aunt Petunia, would you mind waiting for a moment as we pay our respects... I mean, would you care for a spot of tea?" Her eyes went wide again in surprise and before she could think things properly over Petunia nodded.

"Take your time." She said and pointed to a wooden bench in front of the church. "I'll wait over there."


	4. Chapter 4

**A million thank you's go out to all of those who read, followed and favorited this story. A special and humbled thank you goes out to the 13 people who reviewed the last chapter, my biggest record yet! I was so thrilled to read your wonderful praises and words of encouragement and though this chapter is a lot shorter than the last, I hope the much-anticipated tea between Petunia and Harry meet your expectations!**

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Petunia sat with ankles crossed and purse neatly perched on her lap on the comfortable leather armchair of her nephew's living room. Harry had gone inside to fix them the tea and his boys had been polite, but eager to go upstairs to play with their toys, leaving Petunia alone in the room. The floor was of a rich dark wood which contrasted pleasantly with the not too dark blue-gray of the walls. The armchair Petunia was sitting on was to the right of the large brick fireplace full of picture frames and one or two decorative books on the mantelpiece. The larger sofa was of a light beige suede, with throw pillows in different patterns, but all within the blue, gray, white and brown tones of the living room. The side table next to her was round and antique, with a small lamp and a book her nephew was probably in the middle of. She figured this was his favorite seat and he had invited her to sit in it instead.

From where she sat Petunia could perfectly gaze at the images in the picture frames and easily recognized Harry and his sons in several of them. There was one slightly larger photograph of him with three other friends, the redhead she recognized and so did she recognize the young woman with light brown hair and wild bushy curls, smiling up at the boys. Next to her was a slightly more petite young woman with pale skin and hair, as well as clear blue eyes, also smiling. She wore funny looking bottle caps for a necklace and just like the other girl wore dark robes, each of them holding what looked like a graduation diploma. The photograph next to that one almost break Petunia's heart, for it was slightly burned around the edges and warn out from the years, but she would recognize the face of her sister Lily anywhere. Lily was smiling as well, a crown of yellow and white wildflowers on her head as she and her bespectacled husband both looked down with adoration at the peaceful sleeping infant in their arms, in his christening gown. Petunia perfectly remembered the day this had been taken, Harry had been just two months old...

She heard some shuffling and the clatter of china in the other room and soon enough her nephew reappeared from inside. When she turned to look at him Petunia almost expected an older Lily to appear along with him, as it seemed everything about this house reminded Petunia of her.

Harry moved the newspaper and some books off of the coffee table and placed the silver platter on top. He and Petunia served themselves in silence and she took in the aroma of the chamomile tea, blowing ever so slightly before taking a sip.

"It's lovely, Harry, thank you." She whispered, feeling suddenly very awkward with his presence. It amazed her how they could be such strangers when she had after all raised him from the time he was one until he left for the war at seventeen. But Petunia knew very well that this was her doing, her own fault—everything could have been different if she hadn't been so blinded by her anger, fear, and bitterness. She quite frankly felt disgusted at herself and Vernon too, but mostly herself. She was Harry's aunt by blood, there were no excuses. Petunia sighed heavily and her eyes focused on the image of her sister in that photograph once again, she shook her head softly and lowered her eyes towards the teacup and saucer on her lap. "You know, I half expected Lily to round the corner and appear... She lived here, didn't she, once?" Harry's eyes widened slightly because never once had he heard his aunt pronounce his mother's name, either way, he nodded.

"She did, this is where it all happened..." He didn't even need to tell her what, Petunia could feel the presence and energy of his mother among these very walls. "I rebuilt it, took me almost two years."

"It's lovely, she would have been proud." Petunia took another sip. She noticed as his shoulders slightly tensed at her words. "I mean it you know, she would be. Not just for the house but for winning that crazy war, taking down that monster who killed her and also, those handsome boys of yours," Harry could hardly fathom her words, he'd never heard anything good or positive coming out of her lips when concerning himself. "Don't look at me like I'm some three-headed beast, Harry Potter." She scolded with a frown realizing the shock and disbelief written all over his face. "I never told you any of this, but I'm proud of you too—for being good and for your strength. You are a good person." Her tone had been very matter-of-factually that he wouldn't for the life of him debate the matter with her. Aunt Petunia had a peculiar way of looking and sounding cross even when she was saying something entirely nice and complimentary. Still, her words barely echoed in his brain and a sudden anger overcame him, his green eyes becoming more intense and his jaw tensing. How dare she say those things to him, be so kind? Why was she doing this to Harry after having been so cruel to him during all the years he had lived under her roof. What was Petunia Dursley playing at, why was she suddenly saying to him all these things that deep down he'd always wanted to hear from her?!

"Why on Earth are you telling me these things, Aunt Petunia?" He said, with a deep frown on his face, forehead creased, hands balled into fists. She wasn't blind to the fact that he became so defensive.

"Why? Why?!" She repeated, unconsciously raising her voice, setting her teacup and saucer forcefully on top of the platter again, almost breaking, and looking deep into his green eyes, her own brown eyes in a glare.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia,  _why_?" They glared at each other for a long moment before he saw her pride falter in the look of her eyes and the corner of her lips twitch. And then she finally spoke, her tone of voice high and full of emotions that had been pent up for too long:

"Because I'm a bloody idiot,  _Harry Potter_ , that's what I am! And we both know I was a disgraceful aunt, hell, who was Voldy-mort or whatever next to Petunia Dursley?" She said this all loudly, an outburst full of rage and deep contempt, not directed at her nephew, Harry realized, but towards herself. She ran her fingers madly through her hair, in nervousness and frustration because she was losing her cool in front of him. "I'm telling you all of this, boy, because I never said it before, even if I really, really  _wanted_  to." Her voice became low again and he watched as he thin lips began to tremble. "I _-I_ ,  _I didn't know how..._ " Her voice broke and a sob escaped her lips. "Because I ruined everything with you, Harry, I kept you in a bloody cupboard for crying out loud, who does that, Harry?!" She questioned, and then wiped angry tears away with the back of her hands, inhaling deeply in an attempt to control the crying. "I did that, Harry, I did that to you and it  _kills_  me now to have been so cruel. There's not a day that goes by where the memories don't flood in and I feel disgusted and embarrassed with myself."

Harry watched her with alarm, not knowing what to do, having never expected his aunt to ever admit her wrongs, never mind feel bad about them.

"Aunt Petunia, please drink more tea, it'll calm you down," Harry suggested with a whisper, pouring more into her teacup and stirring the sugar in, no milk as he remembered she preferred it, before offering it to her. She gladly accepted, with shaking hands, and after a few minutes of silence she began to calm down, cheeks red from both crying and remorse.

…

Two hours later they were still seated in the living room and drinking their second kettle of tea along with tuna sandwiches he prepared for them in a haste. Harry had wisely directed their conversation to his sons, marriage, parenthood and his divorce rather than towards his and Aunt Petunia's difficult history. They were both much more at ease by now and Aunt Petunia had even slid off her shoes for greater comfort as he regaled her with stories of his sons' antics or those of Teddy, his godson, who was now in Hogwarts himself. It was Harry who talked more while she listened, devoting all of her attention to him. She had even chuckled or smiled at some stories and there was a barely-there twinkle in her brown eyes. Seeing her looking so comfortable in his presence, after their emotional foray hours earlier, Harry gathered the courage to request something that he'd always desired to ask her:

"Aunt Petunia, if you don't mind—could you tell me a story of you and my mum, what your family was like?" Petunia seemed to hesitate for a moment, but in a split second, she was reaching for her wicker bag perched next to the armchair she sat in. She pulled out her long wallet and opened it, revealing an old folded photograph from inside. Petunia carefully held it out to show him.

Harry couldn't believe what he saw when he lay his eyes upon it—two little girls, one dark haired and taller and the other a ginger, smiling hugely, each one with a giant cotton candy in hand. The man who looked to be their father dressed elegantly in a suit sitting at the edge of the bench next to little Petunia, while their mother who had big, puffy brown hair in a typical 1960's fashion sat on little Lily's side. In the background were the grass and trees of a park and in the distance a large Ferris-wheel in what looked like an amusement park.

"That's your mum and I when we were little, I was eight and she was six years old, ever so clever. That's our mother, Camellia, she and our father, Henry, you're named after him in a way, died two years before you and Dudley were born, victims of a dreadful car accident. I thought I would never recover from the pain... and that's when I met your uncle Vernon. He helped me through my grief, I suppose, and right after came your cousin... I reckon it was always meant to be him."

"I realize that before now, I never knew their names or anything about them, not even how they looked..." Harry admitted, his emerald eyes locking with those of his aunt's, the old photograph still in his hands. Petunia noticed the glimmer of emotion in his eyes.

"It wasn't just you—Dudley didn't know either, it's my fault. I preferred to pretend they never existed than to have to be reminded of our good moments together and feel all of that pain again." Harry nodded in a way understanding her reason. "Your mother got the ginger hair from our father's side, his parents were Irish, didn't come from money, worked in the factories and even the coal mines as children during the war. My mother, on the other hand, came from a more posh upbringing, she was the daughter of a Lord, but when she told her parents she wanted to marry Henry Evans—oh Harry, they told her they'd disinherit and she was so in love that she did it anyway and never saw her parents again. Lily was like her, passionate, idealistic, brave..." Petunia trailed off and Harry caught her staring once again at the picture of Lily Evans Potter on the mantelpiece.

For Harry, it was shocking to see his aunt so civil towards him, so open and emotional. He truly felt a different sort of energy emanating from her, as though she was an almost entirely different person than the one he'd known and who had terrorized him all of his early life. He felt that Aunt Petunia seemed to have changed for the better and it intrigued him as to why. Perhaps this change in her had been caused by the death of Vernon Dursley, or the maturity of her years, maybe it had been a result of Dudley and Abigail's sudden and tragic deaths that made her reevaluate things... Still, it was so very strange for him, how changed she was, almost as though it was the fruit of a spell, side effects of which would melt away in a few hours, revealing the nasty woman she truly and sincerely was.

His ears caught the sound of his two sons bickering all the way upstairs, toys crashing on the wooden floorboards. In a flash he heard Albus stomping down the stairs, arms crossed angrily across his chest, brows furrowed and wearing a deep pout. Behind him came James, looking every bit annoyed with his younger brother and Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at their antics, it had taken them long enough.

Petunia looked at the boys and seeing that her nephew would certainly be making use of his parental authority, checked the small wristwatch on her hand, eyes widening as she looked at the time, it was nearly 5 o'clock already!

" _Dad_ , James won't let me play with him!" Albus cried out feeling every bit wronged.

" _Oh, Lord have mercy..._ " Harry then heard Petunia grumble, brows furrowing quite like Albus', and Harry was shocked to see a shadow of resemblance between his son and aunt, in posture and mannerism. "Harry, I'm afraid I must go, I have to catch the last train to London. My granddaughter is with Mr. Temple and I still have to fetch her before heading home..." She explained very quickly, slipping her shoes back on as she stood and immediately grabbing for her bag, making sure all of her things were rightfully inside, almost oblivious to the little boys who fought for their dad's attention.

"Dad, Albus will ruin my broom and it was a birthday gift from Mum!" James cried back, huffing, he too crossing his arms over his chest with defiance and ignoring the older female relative next to him.

" _Harry..._ " Aunt Petunia insisted, trying to capture his attention and Harry's head turned quickly away from the boys' complaints towards his impatient aunt.

"Boys, that's enough. Please be nice and say goodbye to your Aunt Petunia, she's on her way back home." The boys frowned but obeyed, each one extending a polite right hand for the strange aunt they had just met to shake.

"Goodbye, Aunt Petunia," they said in unison and she surprised Harry by smiling brightly and ruffling each of their heads of raven hair and patting their shoulders warmly.

"It was a pleasure to meet you James and Albus, even if we weren't able to get to know each other very much. Aunt Petunia will bring you cookies next time, what do you think?" She looked up at her astounded nephew expectantly and to be perfectly honest Harry was dumbfounded she was even suggesting a second visit between them.

"Oh, please bring cinnamon cookies and also ginger cookies as well!" Albus cried out, now much more interested in the older woman. James elbowed him in silent disapproval and Albus turned at him sticking the tip of his tongue out.

"Of course I will, Albus, if your father allows." Petunia's and the little boy's green eyes looked up to Harry expectantly, Albus' anger had dissipated at the thought of falling into the good graces of this new aunt and the prospect of his favorite treats. Petunia was surprised with herself for feeling this strange pull in her heart, an actual desire to see Harry and his sons again.

"How are you getting to the station?" Harry asked as they reached the door and his aunt's eyes widened, cheeks turning red. Outside the sun was beginning to set.

"Oh, well, usually I call for a cab..." She explained and then fished for her phone inside her purse. She had a very useful app on it and slowly typed in her destination and then Harry's address as he said it to her. The children stayed inside as Petunia stood in front of the house gate with Harry, both quiet and appreciating the shades of orange and bright pink in the sky. The black taxi cab pulled up in front of Potter Cottage in just five minutes and Harry opened the backseat door for his aunt.

"Thank you for tea, Harry." She said with a shadow of a smile, brown eyes twinkling despite the roller-coast of emotions she had experienced in just one day. She wondered if this all had been in a way Lily's doing.

"Don't be a stranger, Aunt Petunia. Would be great if we could meet again." She nodded and pulled the car door closed. The driver pulled away and he caught her waving goodbye to him from inside the dark windows. He waved back and when the cab turned left and disappeared from Harry's line of vision, he buried each hand in a pant pocket and made his way back home. What an utterly crazy day this had been...

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**Please leave a review on your way out guys, let me know what you thought of Harry and Petunia's meeting!**

**Hermione will return next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**As promised, quite a lot of Hermione this chapter. Hope you all enjoy and once again a huge thank you for all of your wonderful feedback!**

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Hermione Granger awoke at half past eight, far later than her usual, on a rare and well deserved Saturday off from work. On days like these she would put on a loose and comfortable cotton dress as well as her favorite pair of leather sandals and walk the six blocks towards her favorite bookshop and cafe, where she would eat breakfast and spend some hours in the delightful company of a good book before visiting either her parents or her best friend Harry's home towards the end of the day.

She passed the bakery with a queue of people waiting to buy pastries, bread, and fresh coffee. She passed the pharmacy, always open; the school building was closed, its wrought-iron gates shutting out all passersby. Hermione had always thought the delicate and intricate iron scrolls to be beautiful… As winter transitioned into spring, she admired the bloomed flowers scattered in flower beds and window-boxes lining the working-class brick and stone townhouses—the leaves of the trees a bright and joyful green. Hermione took her time as she passed the shopfronts with their displays and for the most part lovely outfits on mannequins and different styles of shoes that were to die for. In general, Londoners seemed much more relaxed and at ease during the spring, often humming a tune or wearing a small grin on their faces and Hermione, cheeks pink from the sunshine and cool breeze, wondered if the contentedness she felt showed just like theirs.

Hermione arrived at the cafe and her eyes shut in delight as she opened the blue door and the scent of books, aged wood, coffee, and cinnamon hit her nose. The bookworm in her wanted to live here forever, build a small fortress of books and never leave. Hermione smiled and waved to her regular waiter, Tobias, who was a blonde and cheery exchange student from Germany. He knew not to offer her a menu by now, but rather meet her at her usual booth in the back, next to a large window overlooking the street, her usual large cup of black coffee and a generous slice of her favorite strawberry and cream cake on tow.

"Good morning,  _Mimi_." He said with a smile of amusement. "This is the third Saturday in a row that you've come, have you lost your job or something?" He asked with a grin and Hermione fought the urge to swat him in the arm with her current book,  _'Reading Lolita in Tehran',_  which she was halfway through and enjoying immensely. She hated when he called her Mimi.

"How funny of you, Tobias, but no, thanks for keeping track of my life..." He shrugged, though his mischievous grin and tea colored brown eyes were shining with mirth. "And how have you been?"

"Ah, the same you know... I have to be back in Hamburg in two months, Carolin left ahead of me to find us a new flat—did I tell you that we're serious now?"

"Well, I came to that conclusion when you implied you were moving in with her..." She trailed off with a gesture of her hand. "I'm happy you finally got the courage you know, and I'm happy for the both of you. But, how do you feel about it and leaving London?"

"At first, as you know, I didn't want to leave this place, ever, but I love her and Hamburg is great too, but mostly it's because I love her." Hermione smiled at his words remembering how months ago he was so miserable that his feelings for Carolin, another exchange student from his same hometown and also a friend of Hermione's, wouldn't be returned.

"You know what, I'm throwing you a farewell party!" Hermione exclaimed impulsively. She wasn't the partying type, much less a party planner, but it would be fun and Tobias deserved it.

Tobias was probably Hermione's only close muggle friend and she would miss him dearly, as she already missed Carolin, his girlfriend. The three of them had bonded over books, coffee, and pastries and doing touristy things around London and England in general, often traveling and backpacking together when time allowed or hanging out at Hermione's flat in the evening, over bottles of wine and platters of cheese and cold meats. For Hermione it had been both refreshing and also challenging to have muggle friends, she had to hide that important aspect of her life that was magic and it's world, but at the same time it felt good to have fun the muggle way, doing things with her hands for a change and not setting up a tent with her wand but instead taking hours while reading poor instructions and feeling that wonderful satisfaction after succeeding. She loved that they watched the same TV series so they could debate on the newest episodes and bash their least favorite characters. She liked going out for a beer with them and visiting galleries and museums that most of her magical friends would mock and hate... Hermione was truly and honestly happy for Tobias and Carolin, but she already knew she would miss them dearly.

Tobias' face lit up when she mentioned she'd throw him a party and Hermione laughed at the childlike twinkle she saw in his eyes, similar to the ones in James and Albus Potter's eyes when she brought them gifts or a new muggle movie to watch.

"You don't have to, Hermione..." He said, sporting a blush.

"But I will, you just wait for it." He chuckled and then his eyes sparkled with an idea that suddenly came to him.

"But you'll have to promise me you'll bring your friends—you always said you'd introduce me to them but I've begun to think they're imaginary..." Hermione's smile faltered a little with this, how could she possibly pull off a muggle party with her witch and wizard friends who didn't know the first thing about muggles?! She internally groaned for a second while Tobias looked at her with a knowing grin.

"I knew they were imaginary!" He exclaimed and Hermione lightly swatted him on the arm.

"They are not and I'll prove it to you!" He chuckled and shrug, looking around him and noticing he was needed at another table.

"Well, they better be at my farewell party and please, let there be karaoke, I'd love to hear you sing again before I leave." Hermione's cheeks turned a bright shade of red as he mocked her lack of vocal talent and she glared at him as he passed her by.

" _Arschgeige!_ " Hermione grumbled out, one of the many German words she had learned from her pair of friends, albeit most of them were of the swearing kind. She heard him chuckle from the other table and she shook her head with a silly grin plastered on her face. She dug into her cake and coffee and minutes later opened her book to continue reading, Tobias or another waiter once in a while passing by to refill her coffee mug.

Four hours later Hermione had finished her book, purchased another and was paying for her coffees and treats. She waved Tobias goodbye and slipped out of the shop. It had started raining all of the sudden after all this was still London, and she discretely pulled out her wand in a hidden alley to conjure a large red umbrella and continued on her path home. When she was halfway though she passed a small grocery store and decided to get herself a bottle of white wine to go with the leftover chicken casserole and rice in her fridge at home, courtesy of her mother. She was standing in the checkout line when she caught sight of someone familiar, with a little girl dressed in a lavender floral dress and violet cardigan in arm arrive behind her. She looked at the child who smiled at her playfully, the older woman seeming to have her mind elsewhere as she sported a frown. When the girl's eyes met with Hermione's, a very familiar shock of bright green hit her and she knew this couldn't be a coincidence. It was her turn and Hermione was for a moment startled when the cashier lady called a monotonous 'Next!' and Hermione paid, adding a packet of mint chewing gum. She put her change rightfully back into her wallet and decided to stand around the store entrance, just to catch a glimpse of the lady again, because honestly, it couldn't be  _her_ , could it?

When the woman and child finally stepped out the girl went up to her and unabashedly waved and cried 'hello!' wearing a smile on her face.

"Daisy, it's raining, get over here, please!" The woman called sternly, "Please don't bother the miss." The girl obeyed, but not before she suddenly turned Hermione's very red umbrella am unmistakable yellow and Hermione noticed the woman's eyes go wide and a hand pinch the bridge of her nose not knowing what to do or where to hide her face in shame and fear.

"Matches your dress better that way!" Daisy said, oblivious. Hermione kneeled down to the girl's level.

"It does match better doesn't it, Daisy? But you shouldn't go about changing the colors of things outside. "Not everyone can know about  _magic_..." She said and tapped the wand she pulled out of her dress pocket to change the umbrella back to red before anyone else would notice. The older lady didn't seem to notice, such was her shock.

"Magic?" The girl asked with an expression of utter wonder and amazement.

"Yes. I'm Hermione..." She introduced, sticking out her hand for the girl to shake after she stood.

"I'm Daisy Dursley!" The girl said shaking Hermione's now looking shyer. "That's my Granny..." she exclaimed, looking towards the woman who had paled considerably. "She's shy." The girl whispered.

The last name that Daisy uttered hadn't escaped Hermione and a feeling of intense dread overcame her as her brown eyes gazed at the older woman. She was most certainly Petunia Dursley, Hermione was sure of it.

"Mrs. Dursley, I'm Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry's. Not sure if you remember me, but it's quite fine and I fixed Daisy's mistake. She won't be doing it in public again, isn't that right, Daisy?" The girl nodded. Hermione noticed a flicker of recognition in the woman's brown eyes, the woman who for so many years made her best friend's life utterly miserable. She didn't like her one bit because of it, but ever her parents' daughter, she would still be polite.

"H-Harry..." The woman mumbled and then her eyes finally seemed to take in Hermione's features and the witch was certain she had been recognized. " _Oh my goodness_ , Daisy, why on Earth did you do  _that_?" The woman admonished and Daisy bowed her head in shame. The annoyance present in the woman's voice didn't go unnoticed, or Daisy's reaction for that matter and Hermione felt the characteristic heat of anger from within.

"Daisy is a magical child, Mrs. Dursley, I think you've noticed that. I honestly hope the past will not  _repeat_ itself but do keep in mind that I'll be keeping tabs." She warned in a hushed, but still threatening tone, having grasped at Petunia Dursleys arm. "Harry may be forgiving, but  _I_  am not. I still remember the skinny, battered little boy I met twenty years ago, a little boy who had never experienced love or affection, a boy who was beaten, neglected and dreaded more than anything to return to  _your_  home at the end of each term."

Hermione Granger's words and hard grasp on Petunia's arm seemed to burn the older woman and she felt that terrible sensation in the pit of her stomach, the unmistakable feeling of shame. The brown gaze of the witch before her was intense and filled with contempt, Petunia knew the witch would keep to her word.

Petunia nodded in understanding, putting on a stony façade that she had perfected over the years and pulled Hermione's hand off of her.

"Noted, Ms. Granger. I  _appreciate_  your concern." Inside Petunia was trembling because she knew deep down that Hermione, whether Petunia liked it or not was right to be distrusting and angry with her and strange as it was, she also felt a sudden rush of relief, as though knowing someone was on the lookout for how she treated and raised her special, not freakish, granddaughter put her more at ease. "Best be on our way now." She picked up an oblivious Daisy with some difficulty as she balanced heavy grocery bags in the other. "Say goodbye to Ms. Granger now Daisy and say thank you for her having helped us."

"By, Ms. Hermione, thank you!" The girl immediately said with a bright smile once again.

Hermione waved goodbye to the girl wearing a plastic smile as she watched the two go on their way. She overheard Daisy saying to her grandmother with a happy smile on her face, ' _She's our new friend, Granny!'._

…

Hermione arrived home a short walk later still shocked by her encounter with Petunia Dursley and the realization that the woman's granddaughter was magical as well. When she saw those unmistakable emerald green eyes she had simply known. She's seen Harry written all over them and immediately her thoughts had been inundated by the memories of the little boy he had been and the traumatizing childhood he'd had in the company of those relatives—traumas that she knew still affected him even with the many years that had passed. She was barely capable of eating her food and found herself too worried now to even attempt at opening her bottle of wine. Clad in the comfortable flannel pants she usually wore at home and a ratty University of Oxford t-shirt she decided to floo Harry and see if he was home.

…

As soon as her head surrounded by green flames entered his home and called out to him he had rushed into the living room from the kitchen and told her to come. A few seconds later she was brushing fireplace soot from her shoulders and he was captured by her arms around his neck, bushy curls smelling of vanilla, coffee and sunshine assaulting his senses.

"Oh, Harry" She mumbled into his shoulders as his arms wrapped around her midsection and he allowed for the stress of the past few days to melt away at her affection. He held onto her for dear life, his chest glued to hers and taking comfort in her homey and so very Hermione scent, his nose gently grazing against the ever soft skin of her neck. He placed a soft kiss on that spot, innocent and he noticed that his time it elicited goosebumps on her skin. He chuckled, his body vibrating against hers. He ran an adoring hand over her soft honey-colored curls and they untangled from each other, his left hand cupping her cheek, eyes finally meeting.

"What's troubling you 'Mione?" He asked her knowing that look in her eyes. He watched as she sighed heavily and shut her eyes for a second, before revealing a pool of tears threatening to fall from them.

"Oh, Harry, I-I stumbled upon your aunt today..." She whispered and his emerald eyes went wide.

"You did?" She nodded vigorously and tucked a curl behind her ear as she did when nervous or worried.

"Apparently we live in the same area..." She explained as she plopped into the leather armchair by the fire that had become her designated spot. He sat on the corner of the sofa, facing her and now looking concerned. He raised his dark eyebrows, urging her to continue and Hermione rolled her eyes as was her usual. "I met her granddaughter, Harry, a darling little girl, no older than three, very smart. The little girl turned my red umbrella yellow, Harry." She said and raised her eyes to meet his, watching as his eyes widened in realization.

"You mean to say the girl is  _magical_?" Hermione nodded, frowning.

"D-did she look..." He trailed off, cheeks paling in dread at the mere thought and she practically jumped out of her seat to kneel on the soft carpet in front of him, taking his hand in her's.

"No! No, she didn't, I promise you." Hermione cried out and for a moment he seemed to relax. "But your aunt was visibly perplexed at her little display of magic, didn't know what to do. So I fixed the umbrella and introduced myself, I told her I was your friend. I told Daisy—that's the little girl's name—I told her not to do it in public again..."

"And then what?" Hermione held her breath in and exhaled heavily as he once again urged her on with frantic green eyes. "And then what,  _Hermione_?" he insisted, brows furrowed and a deep frown on his face.

"I told her I still remembered how you were as a little boy and what she did to you and that I would be keeping tabs. I told her that it was best if history didn't repeat itself..."

"You mean you  _threatened_  her, my Aunt Petunia?" Hermione cringed at the word but shrugged and for a moment Harry didn't know what to think of it. " _Oh, Hermione,_ " he said with a heavy sigh and a shake of a head, looking down at her with so much emotion written in his eyes that Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped..." She whispered, looking into his eyes. Instead of anger or disappointment, she saw in Harry's gaze an unexpected adoration and she let him pull her up onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her. She embraced him in return, cuddling into his chest.

"You're Hermione, you  _always_  overstep, I wouldn't love you as much if you didn't." She felt the heat invade her cheeks and knew her face was probably bright red, but Hermione Granger didn't care one bit. She ran her fingers through his black messy hair and took pleasure in hearing his breath hitch at the intimate touch. "You're sure Daisy is okay?" Hermione nodded.

"She is, but I'm keeping an eye out from now on." Harry nodded knowing very well that he could always trust Hermione, his best friend to stick to her word. He tightened his hold on her and basked in her pleasant company, the house awfully quiet during this weekend as Teddy was still at Hogwarts and the two Potter boys were with their mother. "I'm awfully tired, Harry..." He chuckled at this, as he played with a curl of hers. He patted her on the thigh so she'd get up already and his fingers laced with hers as he took her hand and they went up the wooden stairs in companionable silence, as they had many other times. Upon reaching Harry's bedroom they snuggled on top of his large cozy bed, her nails softly and deliciously grazing up and down his arm as the same arm pulled her closer and rested over the curve of her hip tracing little circles over her spine, Hermione's head nestled at the crook of his shoulder.

It was barely five pm and they were already fast asleep, tangled together.

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